Broken Toy
by Avenging Neko
Summary: Who likes playing with a broken toy? Selfish children who refuse to share, even by throwing it away. A rather strange one-shot.


_**Broken Toy**_

* * *

"Seras? Seras! Seras ma cher, talk to me." Pip pleaded with the blonde girl, who lay face down in the dirt, a good thirty feet from the battle field they'd just massacred the FREAKS in. Pip didn't see a speck of blood on her, but she lay there like the dead.

Something had happened to the little vampire since the last he'd seen her an hour back, and the mercenary was deeply worried.

Her Master, devil take him, was no where in sight and the Frenchman pulled the limp form up into his arms, shocked to see her eyes open and staring vacantly at nothing. "Seras! SERAS!"

"Captain!" One of his men called, "we gotta go."

Pip ground his teeth and hauled Seras onto his back, "C'mon then, Mignonette, let's get you back home. Hey! You there! Get her cannon would ya?" He shouted at the man, jerking his head towards the fallen Harkonnen. The soldier made a face, but nodded, and Pip turned to make his way back to the transport. "What have you gotten yourself into, now, ma cher?"

Captain Pip Bernadotte set the blonde into the seat, and cringed when she nearly fell sideways before he caught her and strapped her in with the belt. A minute or two later, three men came grunting up to the van and Pip smirked at them, "What's the matter, ladies, can't handle a little cannon?" He mocked, even as the car dipped slightly from the heavy artillery being loaded on before they clambered in themselves. "Yeah? Why don't you try lifting it?" One of the men grunted back, dropping into the bench seat across from his commanding officers and rubbing his own back to demonstrate.

"Hey… Cap'n, what's wrong with her?" Mark asked, looking worried for the girl. "I'm not sure." Pip answered, frowning.

The van started, and Pip knew the other two would be following in their wake on the trek back to HQ, and he turned back to Seras. "C'mon, Mignonette, say something."

He shook her shoulders and she swayed limply, head bobbing and eyes gazing into nothing. "Seras! I command you to wake up!" He barked, hoping it would work. Nothing.

Desperate, he squeezed her bum – a tactic known for getting her to slap someone – and flinched in expectation, but nothing happened. "Why won't you talk to me, ma cher?"

"Captain… Maybe… try giving her some blood?" One of his men offered hesitantly, and the brunette spared a glance over his shoulder to see it was the one he'd ordered to fetch Seras' cannon, Michael.

"Yeah, that's a good idea…" Pip muttered, and reached into his boot for his knife. He pricked the tip of his finger and waved it in front of Seras' face, expression lighting up when he saw her irises burn crimson, but she didn't move.

"Seras!" He shouted, and on impulse, stuck his bleeding finger in her mouth. Her tongue moved reflexively, and he found himself hard pressed nor to cream his pants at the sensation, but the blood flow stopped instantly as the healing properties in her saliva took effect.

"It's no good… Seras, ma cher, what has happened to you?"

The mercenaries fell into a depressed silence for the remainder of the drive, despite their victory, they felt more like the losers. If anything happened to their little blonde…

* * *

Pip Benadotte carried Seras Victoria up the driveway bridal style, a grim look on his normally cheerful face as his men put the equipment away and settled into their pre-dawn routines. The front door opened without him needing to knock – or kick, as it were – to reveal Walter with an equally grave expression on his own wizened face, "Captain, is Miss Victoria injured?"

"I'm not sure." Pip replied, sounding lost, "I found her like this and she won't respond to anything."

Walter pursed his lips and nodded, "Let's take her to her room, then, perhaps some rest will do her some good." He hummed and they turned as one to the hallways leading to the sub basement entrance.

Pip felt a shiver creep down his spine, and glanced nervously towards the shadows, half expecting to see Alucard dangling halfway through the wall, or a pair of crimson eyes. He saw nothing, but this did little to ease his nerves. Walter opened the Draculina's door, and nodded towards the four poster coffin for the mercenary to set the girl down. Pip did, and glanced around again, rubbing the backs of his arms before mumbling some excuse or another and high tailing it out of the monster's territory. Everybody knew that Alucard guarded the underground levels jealously, and none dared linger if the red clad menace was in a foul mood.

Walter heaved a great sigh as he looked down upon the innocent little blonde, and a fond smile curled his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, "Seras Victoria, if you don't wake up right now, it's B Negative for a week." He whispered in the girl's ear, hoping to jar a response from her.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, and gently closed the fledgling's eyelids with his fingers, pressing the button to send the bed down into the protective depths of the reinforced chamber. "Your master has some explaining to do…"

* * *

Seras Victoria sat in her room, staring into space with a blank look on her face, ignorant, or perhaps uncaring of the butler's presence at the door. "Miss Victoria?" She heard him ask, as though through a tunnel, but had not the energy to turn her head, to speak, to care. She was waiting.

"She's been like this for days, I'm afraid." Walter murmured to someone unknown – whose identity became obvious moments later with the sharp tang of cigar smoke filtering into her acute senses – Sir Integra walked two steps to line up with her unfocused gaze, and her blue eyes narrowed with displeasure, "Alucard?"

There was no answer.

"Alucard!" The harsh noise would have made her jump, but again, her body lacked the desire to respond. That was, until, the sweet darkness of her Master trickled into the room, filling the small space to bursting before coalescing in His usual form. "You called, my Master?"

His voice sent shivers down her spine and her pupils contracted to pinpricks, nostrils flaring as she straightened her posture and half turned her head in His direction.

"What did you do to her?" Sir Integra questioned in a growl, flinging her hand out demonstratively at the puppet like figure on the bed, leaning against the headboard for support, where the bubbly blonde would have grinned cheekily and winked at them for staring.

"Do?" He asked, and hummed, and something in His tone _commanded_ her to look upon Him, she obeyed without question, without thought, nearly sightless gaze locking upon His regal form, with the faintest hint of a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "I did nothing." He purred, and Seras shivered.

"Don't lie to me." Sir Integra snarled, raising her hand to slap the insolent monster, "Seras Victoria is a shell of her former self, and it falls upon you, her **master** to fix the problem, Servant."

'_**Police Girl.'**_

His voice, in her head, jerked her to awareness and she slid from her perch to cross the room with fluid grace, making a motion to grab His hand, before falling to her knees instead and bringing herself forwards to nuzzle the gloved appendage with her cheek, purring. "Master, my pretty Master."

Sir Integra made a low noise in her throat, as though she were gagging with rage, and Walter's tongue clucked disapprovingly. Seras paid them no mind, her focus drawn solely upon her Master. He grinned at her, sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light of the room, "Fledgling. Drink the blood."

She hesitated a split second before nodding and scrambling on all fours in an awkward crouch to the table before grabbing the medical pack in her own gloved hands, again she hesitated, and a tremor rocked her petite frame before her blood teeth extended and she sunk them into the plastic with a silent snarl.

The vibrations of His approval curdled around the edges of her mind, and she beamed at him with blood stained lips, blue eyes eager – thought still somewhat vacant – as she gazed upon her Master, and only her Master. Such a pretty Master. Such a strong Master.

He chuckled lowly and twitched the fingers of His left hand, and she slumped against the table as phantom fingers caressed her blonde locks. He was petting her from across the room, praises for an animal, but she delighted in His attentions like a dog, so why not be rewarded like one?

"Alucard…" Sir Integra growled, "what have you done to the girl?"

Her Master gave that same smug, secretive smile, and the petting stopped, much to Seras' dismay. "I told you already, I did nothing to the Police Girl."

_Liar._

'_**Don't ruin my fun.' **_Her Master countered her thought with a mild, pleasant tone.

_Of course not, my Master._ No, she wouldn't do that. She lived to please Him, didn't she? His pretty little blood-servant. It was her purpose in this unlife until He tired of her.

His laughter reverberated in her skull, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, and she grinned at him with sick pleasure. She straightened from the table, and approached Him once more to kneel at His feet and press her cheek to His thigh, looking up at Him with single minded focus. _Master_.

The humans continued making a fuss for another minute or two before silence reigned in the underground room; they had left, apparently. Her Master moved, then, and walked through the wall, snapping His fingers and patting His leg – while laughing – and she followed like a good dog. It took nothing to phase through the stones and she wondered why she'd never done It before as she followed in His dark footsteps down to the lowest level of the Hellsing Estate where He resided.

He sat upon His throne, and crooked His finger at her in a come hither gesture – which she did. He pointed silently to the cold stones at his feet and she knelt there, hands folded in her lap like a good girl. He grinned, baring his sharp teeth as He twirled His finger and she obeyed, turning around before she felt a shove, and she squeaked, bringing her hands up to brace herself on all fours. That was when she felt his booted feet settle on her lower back, and she blinked. Well … a footstool? That was … interesting.

His heel ground into her back and she stiffened, mind going blank as she forced herself to stillness. Furniture did not move, speak **or** think, apparently.

"Exactly." He murmured before laughing again, using His fledgling as a source of amusement. She heard a whisper _swish_ and _slosh_ as He raised His wineglass to His lips and sipped.

It didn't take the footstool long to fall into a meditative trance, drifting off into half forgotten memories and day dreams. They stayed like that for the remainder of the night, waiting for missions or excuses to go out.

None came, and it wasn't until her face met the stones, nearly splitting her lip, that she realized how exhausted she was. The footstool slumped there on the floor, the only thing keeping her from falling sideways the weight of His feet on her back.

A gentle _clink_ sounded as He set His wineglass down on the table, and the steady pressure of His boots slid off her spine and she would have toppled sideways had she the energy to move. Silence reigned supreme in the cavernous room for a time – how much her sluggish brain was unsure – until she heard the rustle of His clothing and the heavy _clomp clomp clomp_ of His footsteps. A sharp pain gripped her scalp as He fisted her hair and used it as a handhold to drag her to her feet, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Blood trickled down her chin until a warm tongue snaked across her skin and lapped up the tiny offering, and His hot breath wafted over her face, smelling of blood and wine, and she cracked her eyes open blearily to stare into the mesmerizing swirl of ginger and gold within His ruby irises. _Master._

"Fledgling." He cooed, and she could practically _taste_ His breath on her skin as He turned towards His coffin, still holding her a good foot off the ground by her hair, and walked them over to the wooden box.

She felt a prickle of unease wash through her numbness and her fingers curled into her palms, dry throat working to swallow what little moisture remained in her mouth. _Master…_

"Something wrong, fledgling?" He purred, tipping His head down to peer down His nose at her, as though over the rims of the glasses He usually wore. "Don't you want to please your master?"

She froze, and her body tensed as another ripple of unease shot through her like a splash of cold water. _Master…_

"Don't you?" He hummed, and they stood – relatively speaking, anyways – at the foot of His coffin, together, balanced on the edge of something… something dreadfully important.

_I…Master…_

"That's not an answer, Police Girl."

Her blue eyes darted from side to side as though mapping the room for an escape.

_I…_

"Yes or no?"

_Yes, Master._

He chuckled, the sound dark and ominous, "I knew you'd see it my way."

* * *

_**Ketti:**_Note at the bottom this time! Gasp! So, this is supposed to be a one shot, but if enough people want me to, I'll continue it. (Yeah, I say that, then look at all my other stories I'm supposedly working on...)


End file.
